dinner for two
by AGENT Kuma-chan
Summary: Diana thought she had seen everything but apparently there was one marvel she had yet to witness: Batman cooking.


**Title: **dinner for two

**A/N:** For BoxOfficeQueen, for the WondyBat exchange! I really like Diana teasing Bruce and wanted to delve into a budding romance.

**Summary:** _Diana thought she had seen everything but apparently there was one marvel she had yet to witness: Batman cooking._

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Over the course of her lifetime, Diana had seen many things. She'd learned of the world of man, fought monsters and aliens, travelled through parallel universes, and even seen the dead return to life. It was part and parcel of her duties while saving the world. By this point, she'd seen so many things, she thought it was impossible to get surprised anymore.

Apparently, the world was out to prove her wrong because apparently there was still one marvel she had yet to witness: Batman cooking.

Or more accurately, _Bruce_ cooking. Sitting on a high stool next to the island in the kitchen, Diana watched in disbelief as Bruce quickly stirred the chicken on a frying pan, his wooden spatula flipping the pieces so they'd cook on the other side. There was something surreal about this whole thing and she wasn't sure what was the strangest part. That Bruce was cooking, that Bruce was cooking for _her_, or that they were on a sorta-date. If only the tabloids could see them now. "You can cook."

"Yes." Bruce shot her a dirty look over his shoulder, his expression matching his usual Batman scowl. "Of course I can."

Diana rolled her eyes. "Not quite what I expected from a billionaire, Bruce. Particularly since I thought Alfred handled these matters."

"Alfred's better than it than me." Bruce shrugged, turning back to the stove. He opened a jar filled with red spice and tossed a spoon onto the chunks of meat. "But I did spend a lot of time travelling and world hopping. If I couldn't fend for myself, I'd have died."

"I thought that would be more of your 'spam' in a can or things like that," Diana replied, resting her chin on her hand as she watched him. It was funny, she'd seen his back many times before now, but it looked different this time. Maybe it was the lack of pointy ears or the different lighting. It wasn't often she saw him out of costume. "Something more practical than whatever it is you're making."

Bruce didn't respond, ignoring her statement as he added more spices into the mix.

Noticing that he had stiffened slightly, Diana cocked her head. "Am I right?"

"…when you're in the wilderness, taste isn't a priority'," Bruce admitted quietly. His ears were a bright red and Diana could only imagine his expression now. It was rare that he admitted that he was bad at something. "As Dick put it, most of my dishes are 'either eat it or die'."

"Is this one of those cases?" Diana peeked at the bowl on the table with her, filled to the brim with white rice. Another one beside it had a white sauce and yet another a red one. She wasn't quite sure what to make of it all, not yet.

"No." Bruce turned around, a bowl of salad in one hand, two plates in the other. He set them down on the table in front of her, avoiding her questioning gaze. "I've picked up a thing or two from Alfred over the years."

_Over the years or just now?_ Diana didn't press the question, it was obvious. Bruce never learned something if he didn't intend to use it. Maybe Dick could give her the details later—he always did like to talk and she had a feeling this story would be an amusing one. Instead, she took picked up her glass of wine, swirling it gently. It was some high-class vintage, she was sure. If there was one thing Bruce didn't need Alfred's help with, it was alcohol.

"Where is he, anyways?" She glanced around, half-expecting the familiar butler to appear over her shoulder, offering her a snack to tide her over or a sarcastic remark as he observed his master's cooking. She had been in the Wayne manor for at least half an hour now and hadn't seen hide nor hair of Alfred. Or anyone else, actually. An impossible feat, considering how many children Bruce had taken in. "Or your proteges?'

"They're out." Bruce felt her questioning stare even with his back turned and added, "Dick dragged them to the movies."

"Even Damian?" Diana blinked, surprised. And impressed. "He found something for both Damian and Alfred to enjoy?"

"Not entirely." Bruce gave a wry smile as he thought of his caustic son. "Cass is patrolling with Damian."

"Ah." That made more sense. It also certainly saved some movie-goer's life.

Bruce opened a bottle of an unlabeled black sauce and drizzled it over the meat. A spicy, salt smell started to drift around the kitchen despite the fans Bruce had on. "Almost done."

Diana sniffed. "Smells good." She rested her chin on her hand, watching as Bruce bustled about the kitchen. Everything about him felt softer: his expression, his words, even his movements. While she had no doubt that he could spring immediately into a defensive crouch at the slightest provocation, for once she didn't feel like he was waiting for it. "I didn't think you prepare all this, to be honest."

Bruce fell silent. The only sound was his wooden spatula, flipping the meat as it sizzled. Maybe she had gone too far? It was hard to tell with him just what lines he'd drawn in the sand. As he turned off the stove and started to dole out the food onto a platter, he quietly replied, "Me neither."

Huh. Diana didn't know what to say to that. Everything felt more intimate, more private. She watched as he finished setting the food in front of her, his gaze carefully avoiding hers. It seemed the real Bruce was shier than she thought.

Maybe this kinda-date was actually a full blown one, then.

As he sat beside her, his arm just millimetres from her own, she wondered just how long it would take to close that gap. Not very, if she had anything to say about it.


End file.
